


Drowning On Dry Land

by Angelwithbrokenwings, dusty_violet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring John Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Drowning, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Nice John Winchester, Pneumonia, Protective Bobby Singer, Scared Dean Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Swimming, Weechesters, Worried Bobby Singer, Worried John Winchester, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/pseuds/Angelwithbrokenwings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusty_violet/pseuds/dusty_violet
Summary: The boys just want to cool off with a swim in the cheap motel pool while John is off on one of his supernatural hunts. What will they do when it doesn't go according to plan?





	1. Chapter 1

It was a scorching hot August afternoon in the small southern town of Ozark, Arkansas. John Winchester had driven into town last week with his young sons, Dean and Sam, after hearing rumors that a solo vampire was operating nearby. 

 

He checked into the Oxford Inn, paid cash up front so they could stay for three weeks, and left his boys to fend for themselves while he tracked the ancient monster down and killed it.  

 

Most fathers wouldn’t leave their eleven year old son alone for three weeks at a time with his seven year old brother, but John certainly wasn’t a normal dad - he was a hunter. And as a hunter, he had a responsibility to uphold for the safety of all humanity, not just his kids, which meant he had to make lots of sacrifices. The boys spent a lot of time without their father, making them grow up very quickly and becoming more mature and independent than other kids their ages. To Dean especially, his dad was a hero.  

  
John had been gone a week now, having left his boys with instructions to stay close to the hotel and not attract attention, and two wrinkled old twenty dollar bills to feed themselves. At eleven years old, Dean had gotten fairly good at budgeting, so he and Sam had been living off cereal and frozen macaroni and cheese dinners from the dollar store for the past week.

 

Sammy had been begging for ice cream for days now, since it was so hot outside; but they would run out of money if Dean caved every time the ice cream truck drove past playing its tempting song.  

  
Fortunately the motel had a small pool, with a lifeguard Dean could see through the window, so he suggested that they go swimming to cool off instead.  

  
“Yeah!” Sammy exclaimed when his brother pitched the idea.  

  
“Okay, let’s go! Put some shorts on and we can swim in the pool!”  

  
Neither Dean nor Sam actually owned swim trunks, but they could swim just fine in their shorts. Dean fished around in his dad’s first aid kit and found some sunblock that expired three months ago, but it was better than nothing. He squirted some into his hand for his face and chest, and gave the tube to Sammy to do the same.  

  
“That is way too much, Sammy!” Dean scolded. “Here, rub that extra lotion on my back, and I’ll put some on your back too.”  Dean turned around and let Sam smear his back with the goopy white lotion.  

  
“Okay, now me!” Sam demanded, passing the tube of sunblock to his older brother. Dean rubbed it into the little boy’s bony back, from shoulders to the bottom of his spine.  

  
“We’re ready!” Dean announced, tossing the sunblock onto the nearest bed. “C'mon Sammy, let’s go swim!” He grabbed their room key and snatched some towels from the bathroom as the boys headed out the door.     
  


The pool was across the parking lot, but no cars were coming, so they darted across the asphalt to the small, fenced-in, in-ground swimming pool. The lifeguard, if you could call him that, was sitting in a lawn chair sipping a Coke and reading a Spider-Man comic book, not paying close attention to the pool since nobody was in it yet. He didn’t even look up when the boys jumped in with a giant splash.  

  
“Look at me, Dean, I’m a shark!” Sam joked, swimming up to his brother with his hand on his head like a shark fin.  

  
“Oh yeah, well I’m an octopus!” Dean exclaimed. He wrapped his brother in a tight hug with all his arms and legs. They began to sink under the surface of the water, so he let his little brother go so he could get a breath of air. Then he came back up himself.  

  
“No fair! Sharks are bigger than octopuses and they have tons of sharp teeth!” Sammy complained. “I should be able to eat you!”  

  
Dean chuckled. “Well this octopus is bigger and stronger than you! Don’t worry little shark, you will grow up soon. You might even be bigger than me, who knows?”  

  
“Yeah! I wanna be the bigger brother when I grow up!” Sam shouted.  

  
“You might be bigger but I will always be older,” Dean replied. “I’ll always be your big brother!”   
  


Sam sighed. “Okay,” he huffed, mildly disappointed.  

  
“C'mon,” Dean yelled, “do you wanna race to the other side? Ready, set, go!” He swam off towards the side of the pool, kicking furiously and making a big splash. Sam followed, almost catching up to his brother, except Dean had a head start and won by an arm’s length.  

  
“Not fair Dean, you were closer!” Sam complained, breathing hard.  

  
“Don’t be a sore loser, Sammy!” Dean teased. He was panting also. “How about a breath holding contest?”  

  
“Underwater? Okay!” Sam agreed. “One, two, three, go!” he counted, and the boys ducked under the surface at the same time.  

  
They stared at each other near the bottom of the pool, making faces to try to distract each other so one of them could win. Nearly a minute had passed when Sam felt his chest get uncomfortably tight, and he kicked his way back up to the surface for a gasp of air. He treaded water and looked down to where his brother was, waiting for him to come up now that Sam had forfeited the contest.   

 

Dean had begun to swim up to the surface, when Sam accidentally kicked him in the head. The older boy gasped instinctively, and the pool water rushed into his mouth and nose. Dean panicked and thrashed hard to get to the surface.  

  
“Lifeguard! Help!” Sam yelled, grabbing hold of Dean’s arm and yanking him up as hard as he could.  

  
The lifeguard, to his credit, actually set down his soda and comic book and ran up to side of the pool, where Sam had managed to pull his choking brother. The lifeguard lifted Dean from the water and slapped his back firmly while the boy coughed and sputtered, drops of water shooting out of his mouth.

 

Sam climbed out of the pool and knelt anxiously next to Dean, who was wheezing in air and coughing out water.  “Are you okay Dean? I’m so sorry I drowned you!”

  
“It was an accident, Sammy,” Dean groaned.  

  
Overjoyed at the sound of his brother’s voice, Sam threw his arms around him. “You’re okay!” he exclaimed.  

  
Dean coughed once more. “Yeah I’m fine, I didn’t drown,” he said, waving the lifeguard away.  

 

“I think you kids are done for the day,” the lifeguard said, handing them their towels. Crisis averted, the boys dried themselves off and returned to their motel room to find something else to do until their dad got back. 


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day was uneventful for the two boys.  Dean cooked dinner for the two of them, and got himself and Sam ready for bed. It was still quite early, and neither of the boys were tired enough for bed yet, so they snuggled on the couch watching reruns of old shows.  

 

* * *

  
The next day was just as hot and Dean woke up sweating. He gently moved away from Sam and pulled the covers off, heading to the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water before moving to the kitchen to make some breakfast for Sam, who was just showing signs of movement.   
Sam sat down at the table as Dean put a bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him, taking a seat beside him. Sam looked at his brother; he looked pale and tired. He gently put his spoon down and tapped his brother on the arm.  

 

“Dean, why aren’t you eating?” Sam pouted. “Did I eat the last bowl of Lucky Charms again?” He pushed the bowl over to Dean.  

 

Dean smiled sliding the bowl back, “Nah, just not hungry Sammy.”

* * *

 

The phone interrupted the boys later that day after they decided it was best to play inside. After what had happened yesterday, they didn’t think the lifeguard would be too happy if they showed up again.  

 

Sam ran up to Dean, pulling on his shirt. “Is that dad? Is he okay? He’s not hurt, is he?”  

 

Dean put the phone down with a smile on his face. “He’s fine, Sammy - finished the hunt early, and is going to start making his way back, which means we have enough money for ice cream later. What do you say?”   
  


Sam’s little eyes widened at that and he nodded his head.   
  


After eating their ice cream Dean helped Sam wash up and the pair went to bed too full for dinner.  

 

* * *

 

Sam woke up to a noise coming from Dean’s bed. He peeked out of the covers, but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dean and no one else. Dean was tossing and turning, so Sam got up and went to his side. He gently shook his brother’s shoulders - nothing. He tried calling his name and shaking his shoulders, but again Dean didn’t wake up. Sam could hear him mumbling and thought he might be having a nightmare. He leaned in closer.  

  
“Dean! Wake up! Wake up!” Sam cried, but his brother didn’t move.  

 

Sammy laid his head on his brother’s chest, expecting to hear the soft, slow thumping of his brother’s heart, but instead was met with a fast heartbeat - and he could hear his brother wheezing. With tears coming out of his eyes, he ran to the motel phone and dialed the number John had drilled into their heads in case of any emergency.  

  
The phone rang twice before he heard a woman’s voice on the other line. “Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”  

  
Sam tried to keep it together; he needed to be strong for his brother. “It’s um, my, my brother Dean. He won’t wake up,” Sam sniffed.  

  
"Okay, I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath and tell me what has happened.”  

  
Sam did as instructed. “My brother won’t wake up, he’s really hot and he’s breathing really fast.”   
There was a pause before the woman spoke again. “How old are you? Is there an adult there with you?”  

  
"I’m 7 and my brother is 11. Our dad is working; he’s not here.”  

  
"Do you know the address of where you are right now?” Sam quickly told her the address of the motel, and then the ambulance was on its way. The lady stayed on the line with him, making him go and check on his brother and come back to the phone.  

  
Shortly, Sam heard a knock on the motel door. He peeked through the curtains, making sure it was the paramedics, before hanging up the phone and opening the door. He led them to Dean, who was still tossing and turning and mumbling.

 

As the paramedics started working on his brother, Sam began to cry even more.

  
One of the paramedics turned to him and led him out of the room. “Hi, my name’s Stuart. We’re going to take good care of your brother Dean okay?” Sam sniffled and nodded. “Do you know if your brother has any medical conditions or is allergic to anything?”  

  
Sam straightened up knowing he had to try and be brave for his brother. “No, I don’t think so.”  

 

The paramedic fed the information back to his partner. “Now, do you know when your dad will be back?” 

 

Sam shook his head and began tearing up again. Stuart knelt to Sam’s level, helping him keep his breathing under control. 

 

“Hey, it’s okay buddy. We will write him a note so he knows what’s happened and where we have taken you both.”  

 

Sam nodded as Stuart helped him write the note and pack him and Dean a bag.  

  
Dean began to fight against the paramedic in his disoriented state. The paramedic asked Sam to sit and wait as he went back to help his colleague. Sam could hear Dean mumbling about demons and monsters. He knew he couldn’t just sit and leave Dean with the strangers, so he got up and wiped his tears. He sat down by his brother and held his hand.  

  
“It’s okay Dean. It’s me. It’s Sam, nothing’s here - you’re safe.”  

  
Dean opened his eyes looking round for his brother. “Sammy?” He seemed to quiet down a little. He continued talking to his brother as the paramedics hooked him up to various beeping machines and wires.  

  
Sam’s eyes drifted up to a small screen full of numbers, where the beeping seemed to be coming from. The big green number was blinking rapidly. 120 - no, 122 - no, 124. Chest heaving, Dean squeezed his brother’s hand tightly as an oxygen mask was slipped over his mouth and nose.  

 

The paramedic placed a stethoscope on the boy’s chest, tugging his shirt out of the way to place it directly on the skin. "We’ve got crackling,” he announced with a grimace. He moved the chest piece to Dean’s other lung. “Bilateral. Maybe a bit worse on this side, actually.”  

  
He made eye contact with his young patient. “We’re gonna take care of you, alright, kiddo? You’re gonna be okay. Can you just take nice, slow breaths for me?”  

  
Dean nodded bravely, and the paramedic patted his head. “That’s it, kiddo,” he praised, listening to the rapid yet regular heartbeat through his stethoscope.  

  
“His name’s not kiddo,” Sam piped in, “it’s Dean.”  

  
The paramedic’s face softened at the seven-year-old’s indignant glare. “Okay, Dean, you’re doing just fine,” he corrected himself.  

 

“Your brother is right here and we’re almost to the hospital where we can help you breathe better and get rid of that temperature you’ve got, okay?” he soothed.  


	3. Chapter 3

Once they arrived at the hospital, the ambulance doors opened and they were met with a team of doctors and nurses. Dean’s gurney was snatched away and wheeled into the hospital with Sam trailing behind.  

 

“Okay, this is Dean, he’s 11 years old,” Stuart recited. “His brother Sam called in when he wouldn’t wake up, had a temperature and was mumbling. Said he hasn’t been feeling well since they were playing in the pool a few days ago and he nearly drowned. Temperature is 104, pulse 124, sats 90, resps 32 and BP is 90/60. He’s got cracking sounds in both lungs.”  

 

Dean was wheeled into the emergency room and the doctors immediately began to crowd him, unplugging him from the paramedics’ small machines and into the bigger hospital ones. A doctor began to shout orders to the rest of the team; nurses were grabbing oxygen masks and wires. One went to get a gown as another began to cut Dean’s shirt off so wires could be attached to his chest.  

 

Sam heard the doctor shout, “can we get a blood test? And call radiology for a chest x-ray!”  

 

He saw the nurse begin to tie a blue band around Dean’s arm and clean it with a wipe - he knew what was coming.  

 

“Sweetie, I’m just going to pop this needle in your arm to get some blood, it’s only going to hurt for a few seconds.”  

 

Dean took one look at the long needle and began to breathe faster, panicking and tugging his arm away, struggling against them. Sam could see his brother’s chest rising and falling faster, and the machines beeping more and more. He walked forward, ducked under the team of nurses, and held his hand.  

 

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay Dean - just look away.”  

 

Dean turned his head to his little brother, eyes wide with panic, but began to relax when he saw him smile. Dean felt a sharp scratch in his left arm and squeezed his eyes tight.  

 

“There we go, all done,” the nurse praised.  

 

“Well done, Dean!” Sam smiled.  

 

“Alright brave boy, think you can handle one more needle? We just need to put this little tube in your hand to give you some fluids.”  

 

Dean nodded and looked to Sam again, holding out his free hand through the bars. He winced as the needle went in, but was slightly calmer than before.  

 

"All done,” the nurse said as she hung the bag on an IV pole.  

 

Dean tried to return his brother’s smile, but it came out more like a grimace.  

 

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked the nurse next to him.  

 

“We don’t know yet, sweetheart, but we are going to take good care of you,” she promised, patting his hand.  

 

Another woman walked into the room with different colored scrubs on. “Dean, this is Nina from radiology,” the nurse explained. “She is going to take you to get an x-ray! Do you know what an x-ray is?”  

 

Dean shook his head, but Sam interjected, “that’s when they take your picture and it looks like a skeleton!”  

 

Nina giggled. “That’s right!” she praised. “And who might you be, young man?”  

 

“I’m Sam and I’m seven years old and that’s my big brother Dean and he’s 11 and he’s babysitting me so we can’t be apart so he can watch me!” Sam rambled in one breath.  

 

“Okay Sam, you can come with us if you can follow directions,” Nina agreed.  

 

“I’ll be good, just help my brother,” Sam replied.  

 

Nina and the nurse helped dress Dean in his hospital gown before setting him down in a wheelchair and hanging the tubes and wires from a tall pole.  

 

“This way, boys!” She said, leaving the room and turning right towards the sign that said “radiology department.”  

 

They pushed through the double doors into a room with a steel table and a giant mechanical thing hanging above it from the ceiling.  

 

“Okay, Dean, I’m going to help you up onto this table, and I just need you to lie very still while I take some pictures, alright?” 

 

Dean gripped the arms of the wheelchair tightly.  

 

“Don’t worry, you won’t feel anything at all. It’s completely pain free,” Nina reassured him.  

 

He loosened his grip, and she helped him stand and climb onto the table. He lay down in the center of the table, and Nina aimed the camera at the middle of his torso.  

 

“The button to take your picture is all the way in that room over there, so Sam and I are going to go in there, okay? There is a radio so you can still hear me,” she explained.  

 

Dean looked over at his little brother, and reached out for his hand, which Sam grasped readily.  

 

“Do you want Sam to stay?” she asked. Dean nodded. “Alright then, let me go get something special for Sam to wear!” Nina exclaimed.  

 

She went into the control room and returned with a small vest, which she helped Sam put on.  

 

“Is this made of bricks?” Sam asked.  

 

“No,” Nina laughed, “it’s made out of lead! It’s to make sure that the picture is only for Dean and not for you, too.”  

 

Sam nodded, understanding the childlike way in which she explained it.  She walked into the control room and began speaking through the radio. 

 

“Dean, I need you to be as still as you can. Don’t move a muscle.” she instructed. “When I say go, I want you to hold your breath as long as you can, alright? Go!”  

 

Dean breathed in as deep as he could, even though it hurt to do so. He squeezed Sam’s hand a little bit, just enough to help with the pain, but not enough to make Sam cry out or squirm and ruin the picture. He had to be just like a statue.  

 

“Okay, Dean, great job! You can breathe again,” Nina informed him.  

 

Dean exhaled loudly and panted, trying to catch his breath exhaustedly.  

 

“Now we just need to wait a few minutes to make sure this is a good picture, and then we’ll be all done!” 

 

Nina took the vest off of little Sam and put it back in the control room. In a few minutes, she confirmed that they had all the x-rays they needed and that they could leave. She assisted in returning Dean to his wheelchair and pushed him back to the triage area of the emergency room for the doctors to continue diagnosing him.  

 

There was a nurse waiting in Dean’s cubicle to help him into bed.  

 

“This is Dean and his little brother Sam” Nina told Seth before whispering something else in his ear and leaving, “see you later boys, be good for the nurse.”  

 

"Hey buddy, I’m Seth and I am going to be your nurse. I’m just going to help you up onto the bed and hook you up to the monitors.”  

 

When Seth was done and Dean was settled, he walked over to Sam and knelt in front of him.  

 

“Is there anyone I can call for you guys? The paramedics who brought you in said your dad was working and you left him a note.”  

 

Sam nodded and recalled the number Dean helped him learn in case of emergencies.  

 

"Okay, I’ll be back in a minute. If anything happens, just call for help and someone will be in, alright?” Sam sniffled and nodded.  

 

Seth came back in not too long after he had left. 

 

"Sam, we couldn’t get hold of your dad, but there was a number he left in case of an emergency for someone called Bobby. Do you know him?”  

 

Sam sniffed holding back his tears, “yeah, Uncle Bobby. Can you call him?”  

 

Seth put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “I’ll go do that now. Your brother is in the best hands, Sam. We’re doing all we can.”  

 

Sam was barely holding on. He didn’t have his brother or his dad, and he was scared. Dean was fast asleep, so he did the same thing he always did when he was scared or Dean had a nightmare. Avoiding Dean’s wires, Sam climbed up on the side of the bed and lay next to Dean.  

 

"Don’t worry Dee, you’re going to be okay,” Sam sniffed, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. 

 

He moved closer to his brother and rested his head on his brother’s chest. It wasn’t the normal, slow, relaxing heartbeat he heard from Dean - it was fast and in time with the beeping he heard. He closed his eyes, trying to block everything out, snuggling close to his brother’s side.  


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby was lead to Dean’s cubicle by a nurse, who slowly opened the curtains around the bed. He was met with a sight he never got tired of seeing: the two boys fast asleep, Sam snuggled to Dean’s side. He looked at Dean, who was pale and sweaty, taking deep, labored breaths.  

 

“Poor boy, what’s happened this time,” he sighed to himself before sitting next to the bed.  

 

Sam began to stir. “Bobby?” 

 

“How’re you holding up, kid?” he asked.   
  


Sam’s eyes began to water but he took a deep breath and nodded, “I’m okay. Dean’s going to be okay,” he nodded, reassuring himself.    
  


“Come here you idjit! Just like your daddy, always pretending everything's okay when it ain’t.”

 

Sam moved off the bed and into Bobby’s embrace. “He is going to be okay, Sam. He’s a Winchester! He may be little, but he is tough.” Sam sat next to Bobby on the spare seat before falling against him and closing his eyes in exhaustion.

* * *

 

Sam wasn’t sure how long he was asleep before a doctor came into the cubicle.

 

"Hey there, you must be Sam and you must be Bobby!” The doctor smiled as Sam woke up.

 

"I’m Dean’s doctor, my name is Bree. Is it okay if I just check him over?”   
  


“My brother is very sick, so please don’t wake him up, okay?” Sam asked seriously.

 

Bree smiled. “Don’t worry, I will take very good care of your brother. I’ll make sure he gets lots of rest so he can get better.” She gently reached for Dean’s arm to check his hospital wristband. “Do you know when your brother’s birthday is?” She asked, verifying his ID.

  
“January 24,” Sam replied.

  
The doctor nodded. “Good, this is the right Dean.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist and counted the sleeping boy’s pulse. Satisfied, she set his arm back down and retrieved a blood pressure cuff from a shelf behind the bed. She fastened it around his arm and removed the stethoscope from around her neck, inflating the cuff and listening for the flow of blood. Bree checked Dean’s temperature with an ear thermometer, which beeped shrilly and angrily to confirm he still had a fever.

  
“Is my brother really really REALLY sick, or just really sick?” Sam asked, in the way that only a seven-year-old can.

  
She put the stethoscope in her ears and smiled at Sam. “Let me find out, so that he can stop being really sick.” She pulled the small cotton hospital gown off Dean’s chest and listened carefully to the crackling noises coming from inside his lungs, while he remained deeply asleep. “It sounds like pneumonia to me. I’m sure his blood test and the chest x-ray will confirm that diagnosis. I’m going to start him on IV antibiotics, anti-febrile medication, and fluids.”

  
Sam looked at the doctor like she had three heads. “What?”

  
Bree covered Dean back up and crouched down to Sam’s level. “Your brother has an infection in his lungs, but I can fix it by putting special medicines in that tube in his arm. It will help fight the bad germs in his body and make his fever go away.”

  
“And then he will be all better again?” the little boy asked.

  
She smiled warmly. “Yes, your big brother is going to be just fine. In a couple of days he should begin to improve.” She patted Sam’s hand and turned to Bobby. “Do you have any questions for me?” She asked.

  
“Naw, I think you about covered it,” he replied.

  
“I’m going to put a nasal cannula on him for some oxygen to help him breathe, since his sats are a little low,” Bree explained, draping the tubing across Dean’s cheekbones and into his nose. “The nurse should be back to check on him again in a while, but for now just let him rest.” She left the room and it was silent, just Sam and Bobby watching Dean inhale and exhale as best he could.

  
Soon after, Bree returned with Seth. She had Dean’s x-rays in her hand and his file. “Okay, so I have taken a look at Dean’s test results, and I can confirm that he does have bacterial pneumonia. Seth is going to start him on the medications I described to you earlier and a drip to rehydrate him.”

 

She turned to address Bobby. “You can take Sam home if you want. Dean’s going to be pretty out of it for most of the night, and we don’t want Sam wearing himself out and making him sick too,” Bree said ruffling Sam’s hair. 

  
Bobby nodded and held out his hand for Sam. Sam climbed up on the side of Dean’s bed, careful of his tubes and wires, and gave him a big hug.

  
“Please get better Dean. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it” He began to cry before Bobby picked him up and walked out of the room. “Get well soon kid.” He smiled sadly at the doctor, “call me if anything happens.” 

* * *

 

Early that morning, Bobby received a call from the hospital. Dean had taken a turn for the worse in the night, and they had to intubate him. Bobby let Sam sleep for a few hours before waking him up to go to the hospital. 

 

Before they went into Dean’s room, Bobby crouched down to Sam’s level, trying to find the best way to explain to him what had happened. "Sam, Dean got sicker in the night. He’s got a few more tubes going into him, including one in his mouth to help him breathe. He’s not going to be awake, but he’ll be okay.”

  
Sam nodded his understanding, and let Bobby lead him by the hand into Dean’s hospital room. The little boy’s mouth dropped open and a gasp escaped at the sight before him. His brother was unnaturally still and pale as a corpse, aside from the fever flush on his cheeks and brow. Bobby had mentioned more tubes, but Sam hadn’t expected Dean’s ventilator to be so prominent or for it to hiss so rhythmically, mechanically, as it breathed for his ailing brother. Sam cowered behind Bobby, clinging to his jacket and seeking comfort.

  
"It’s alright Sam,” he soothed. “He’s still alive. It’s still Dean in there.” Sensing Sam’s hesitation, he grasped the boy’s hand and stepped forward into the room.

  
After taking the first slow step forward, Sam rushed to his brother’s bedside, jerking his hand out of Bobby’s and carefully grabbing one of Dean’s in both of his own. He studied his brother’s face silently.

  
“Does it hurt, Bobby?” Sam asked tentatively.

  
“Naw, son, I don’t think he can feel it,” the hunter replied.

  
“So he can’t feel me right now?” the little boy inquired, making gentle pulsing squeezes on Dean’s hand.

  
Bobby sighed fondly. “Let him rest, boy. You can mess with him when he wakes up again.”

  
“When is he gonna wake up?” Sam queried.

  
The hunter shrugged. “Dunno. Nurse might know. Press the call button.” He gestured to a plastic remote control on the side of the hospital bed.

  
Sam pressed the button, and a few minutes later Seth entered the room. “Y'all are back! Is my patient okay?” he asked.

  
“When is Dean gonna wake up?” the little boy asked.

  
The nurse rested his hand comfortingly on Sam’s head. “He was having some trouble getting oxygen last night - you know what oxygen is, don’t you?” He checked in with Sam, who nodded in confirmation. “So I gave him some sleepy medicines and put this special breathing tube in his mouth to help him. When Dean starts breathing better, we can take the tube out and wake him up. Sound okay?”

 

“How long until he gets better and you wake him up?” Sam asked.

  
“Maybe tomorrow? Or the next day? It’s hard to tell,” Seth explained. He gestured to the video screen next to the hospital bed. “You see this number there? It says SpO2 is 89. That number needs to get bigger - more like 95 or 96 - and then I’ll know that your brother has enough oxygen for me to take the tube out and wake him up.”

 

“How do I make his number bigger?” Sam wondered.

  
“Nothin’ you can do, buddy,” Seth replied. “That tube gives him plenty of oxygen to breathe. We just have to wait for his body to start fighting those bad germs in his lungs so he can breathe the oxygen again, like he’s supposed to.” He pointed to Dean’s IV. “This little tube has plenty of medicine in it to kill the germs. All we can do is wait and watch.” Seth finished his check of Dean’s vital signs and left the room with a reassuring smile.

  
Bobby saw Sam watching the monitor, his eyes occasionally flicking back to his brother who remained motionless. A tear escaped Sam’s eye.

  
“You gotta get better Dee! Please, for me,” he whispered, rubbing his brother’s hand gently. 

  
Bobby got up. “I’m gonna try your dad again, okay kid?”

  
Sam’s eyes never left his brother as he slowly nodded. Bobby placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder before walking out. 

  
Bree walked in and saw Sam holding Dean’s hand. “Hey Sam, are you okay?” She smiled sadly; Sam didn’t reply. “I know it must look really scary, but he’s doing okay. Did Seth explain everything to you?” 

  
Sam nodded.

  
“The tube is giving him a break. He needs to use his energy to heal, and this gives him a little help to do that. I’m just going to check to see if the medicine is working. Do you want to help?” she asked.

  
Sam sniffed and nodded his head. “If he is better, can he have his tube out?” Sam’s eyes lit up hopefully. 

  
“We’ll see, Sam.” She smiled a little brighter. "Okay, I’m going to feel his pulse and you gotta tell me if it matches up to that green number at the top with the squiggly lines okay?” She picked up Dean’s wrist in her hand and began to count. “Okay, I counted 105. Is that right?” Sam nodded. 

  
“Now you are going to do something really important for me, can you do that?” Bree asked. 

  
Sam nodded a little more enthusiastically. He wanted to do anything to help his brother.

  
“I need you to count every time he takes a breath. Will you do that for me?” Sam nodded and began counting as Bree continued her other checks, listening to Dean’s chest. 

  
“I’m going to take his temperature as well to see if his fever has gone down. I’m going to put this in his ear; can you press the button and read it out to me?” 

  
Sam looked at the number, alarmed that it hadn’t gone down by much. “103,” Sam sighed, before moving to sit down again. 

  
Bree came to sit by him. “Sam, it may not seem like it, but Dean is doing better. The medicine just needs more time to work.”

  
"How much more time?” he wondered aloud.

  
“We should see an improvement in another day or two,” Bree guessed. “Seth and I will keep a close eye on his progress, and we will keep you and Bobby informed every step of the way. Okay?”

  
Sam nodded. “ ‘Kay,” he replied. 

  
Bree patted his head. “Your brother is young and strong and healthy - he’ll be just fine, Sam.” 

  
Bobby came back in just as the doctor was leaving, and she gave him a quick update on Dean’s condition before she resumed making rounds of her other patients. 

  
“Finally managed to track down yer daddy,” he told Sam. 

  
“Where is he?” the little boy asked.

  
“ 'Bout four hours away,” the old hunter replied. “He’s headin’ straight here now.”

  
“Four hours?!” Sam exclaimed. 

  
“Maybe three an’ a half, the way yer old man drives that car of his. But don’t worry, I ain’t leavin’ you until he gets here.”

  
Sam looked up at him warmly. “Thanks, Uncle Bobby,” he replied softly. 

  
“Don’ mention it,” Bobby replied. He sat down in the worn plastic chair by Dean’s bedside and patted the extra space next to him. “C'mere, kiddo.”

  
Sam climbed into the chair, half-leaning against Bobby, who grabbed the remote control and turned the television on to the kids’ channel. He was completely engrossed in the cartoons when John arrived, just shy of four hours later. 

  
Sam could tell his father had arrived by the sound and pace of the footsteps coming down the hall, and the shape of the shadow that was cast in the doorway. 

 

“Heya, John,” Bobby greeted without looking up. 

  
“Dad!” Sam hollered enthusiastically, getting up out of his seat. He ran to his father and wrapped his arms around him. 

  
“Sammy,” John replied, returning his son’s embrace. “Bobby,” he nodded at his friend. “What in the hell happened to my boy?” 

  
“Pneumonia,” Bobby answered, getting up to shake the other man’s hand firmly. “Got real bad last night, so they put that tube in him. But they got him on lotsa drugs now, so he should be gettin’ better real soon.”

  
John reached out and gently stroked Dean’s flushed, sweaty forehead, pushing the sandy strands back away from his face. “You sure he’s okay, Bobby?” His voice was thick with worry.

  
“I know it don’t look good, but the doctor’s real optimistic about him recovering completely in a few days or a week,” he answered. 

  
“Damn right it don’t look good!” John growled suddenly, paternal anger rising inside of him. “How did this happen? He wasn’t sick when I left the boys!”

  
Sam couldn’t hold back a sniffle. “It’s all my fault!” he wailed, big droplets leaking slowly from his eyes. “Dean never woulda got sick if I didn’t drown him by mistake!” He broke down into loud, shuddering sobs.

  
John’s ire faded instantly, and he scooped his son up into his arms. “This isn’t your fault, Sammy,” he reassured him, rubbing slowly up and down his back. “Calm down, son, and tell your old man what happened.”

  
Sam took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “It was really hot and we wanted to swim, so we did. And we were playing and holding our breath, and I got up and kicked Dean. And he breathed in water and now he’s dying!”

  
John held Sam tighter as he began to cry again. “Shhh,” John soothed, “Dean’s not dying, Sam. He’s going to pull through; you know him. You have to be brave for him, okay? He wouldn’t want you cryin’. This ain’t your fault, son.”

  
Bobby patted Sam on the back before turning to John. “I’m going to head back - you okay here?”    
John nodded. “Thank you, Bobby.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sam and John visited over the next few days, with Dean slowly but surely recovering. Every day his vitals grew stronger.

  
“Sammy, you going to be okay here while I sort out the insurance? I’ll be at the front desk and you have the call bell in case anything happens,” John instructed.

  
Sam nodded and scooted closer to Dean, holding his hand. 

 

Sam didn’t know how long John was gone before he felt something squeeze his hand. It couldn’t have been Dean… could it? 

  
“Dean? Was that you?” Sam felt it again and Dean’s eyes began to flutter. Dean tried to take a deep breath in, not realising there was a tube in his throat. His heart rate monitor began to beep more frantically as his eyes shot open. Sam gasped before standing up, “Calm down Dean! It’s okay, I’m going to go get a nurse. Please relax, Dean.”

  
Dean relaxed, letting Sam go to find a nurse. He saw Seth running to the room with Bree not far behind. “He’s awake! Dean’s awake!” Sam rushed in, taking his brother’s hand again and smiling for the first time in a week.

  
Dean’s eyes darted frantically between his brother and the medical staff surrounding him. He wanted to breathe on his own, but the air kept catching on the tube in his throat, choking him.

  
“Easy there, Dean,” Seth said, “if you want the tube out, nod your head.”

  
Dean nodded vigorously.

  
“Awesome,” he replied. “Bree is going to check you over real quick and see if it is ready to come out, okay?”

  
“Just take it out, please! It’s choking him!” Sam cried.

  
“He’s okay, he can breathe if he stops fighting it for a minute,” Seth assured the younger brother. 

  
Dean made eye contact with him, his expression saying don’t worry Sammy, I’m fine, so Sam released his hand and stepped back to let the professionals do their jobs. 

  
Bree listened to Dean’s lungs for a minute with her stethoscope, then nodded to Seth. “He’s ready,” she announced. “Get me an extubation kit and a nasal cannula.”

  
Seth returned with the items, draping a paper shield over Dean’s chest and fitting the nasal cannula into his nose while Sam watched, eyes wide.

  
“Okay buddy, let’s get that pesky tube out!” Bree announced. “On the count of three, I want you to cough really hard for me, and Seth will pull it out. Ready? One, two, three!”

  
On cue, Dean hacked as hard as he could, and Seth carefully removed the breathing tube from his mouth. He continued to cough, throat dry and sore, while Bree pressed the stethoscope back against his chest. 

 

“Nice deep breaths for me, buddy,” she instructed. Finally, he caught his breath and was able to inhale and exhale for the doctor. “Good, that’s very good Dean.”

  
“Sammy,” he croaked, reaching for his little brother’s hand.

  
“Right here, Dean,” his brother answered, gripping it tightly. 

  
Seth removed the used tube and cleaned up, too touched to speak, leaving the room with a lone happy tear in his eye. Bree stayed to adjust the oxygen level in Dean’s nasal cannula, satisfied that his sats had returned to 94.

  
Sam looked up when his father walked back in. “Daddy, look!” he exclaimed.

  
“Dean!” John yelled, hurrying forward to his eldest boy. He took Dean’s face between his large hands and kissed the top of his head.

  
“Ew, Dad, gross!” Dean complained in the voice of a forty-year-old smoker.

  
Bree handed Dean a cup of ice chips. “Suck on these, one at a time - no chewing them! It’ll help your throat.”

  
Dean nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  
“Do you feel alright now? Any shortness of breath or chest pain?” she asked.

  
He shook his head no.

  
The thermometer was quickly in and out of his ear, indicating his fever had fallen to 100.5 (“much better,” the doctor had commented), and then he was left with his family to rest.

  
“Hey Sammy, come 'ere,” Dean said as Sam stayed back. “Come on! Climb on up, you won’t hurt me.” Sam smiled and climbed up on the bed opposite Dean.

  
“Do you want to try my special finger laser on?”

  
Sam looked hesitant. “Does it hurt?”

  
Dean shook his head. “It just shows my heartbeat up there and other stuff, do you wanna try?” Dean unclipped it from his finger and placed it on Sam’s. They both watched as the lines moved up and down on the screen, slower than Dean’s.

  
“That’s so cool!” Sam gasped. Dean smiled and began to tickle Sam; they watched as the lines jumped when Sam giggled.

 

Dean let out a yawn and snuggled deeper into his pillows. “Alright Sam, let’s put that back on him and let him sleep.” John carefully placed it back on Dean’s finger.

 

“Come on dad, a little bit longer, just until I fall asleep?” Dean asked.

 

Sam turned to their father with a look he couldn’t say no to.

 

John nodded. “As long as you don’t work him up too much; he needs rest and so do you. I’m going to head to the canteen, do either of you want anything?” When they both shook their heads, John left the room.

 

The two continued to talk about what Dean had missed on their favorite shows and how Sam had helped the doctor, which impressed Dean very much. They both went quiet for a minute before Sam spoke up.

 

“Dee?”

 

“Yeah Sammy?”

 

“I’m sorry for making this happen,” he sniffled.

 

“Sammy you didn’t make this happen, it was an accident, I got sick you couldn’t help that.”

 

Tears began to roll down Sam’s cheeks and Dean pulled him closer so he was resting on his chest. “Hey it’s okay Sammy, I’m alright, I’m going to be okay.”  Dean pulled the covers over the both of them and rubbed soothing circles on Sam’s back as his sniffles subsided and his breathing evened out.

 

John came back to find the boys cuddled together and sleeping. He set their juice boxes down on the table next to Dean’s bed and pulled the chair close.  


End file.
